


Newton's Law of Universal Gravitation

by SealLullaby



Category: Twilight Series - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe, Awkwardness, Character Development, Crossover, F/M, Fluff and Crack, Humor, Hunters, M/M, Mild Sexual Content, Monsters, Werewolves, bamf characters, our vampires are different, teenagers being teenagers
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-08-09
Updated: 2014-10-12
Packaged: 2017-12-22 21:23:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 10,281
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/918165
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SealLullaby/pseuds/SealLullaby
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Michael Christopher Newton is almost certain that the new students in his school are drug-dealing vampires because that's the only explanation for why the whole town has suddenly gone to the dogs. Literally, according to his mom.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The Second Law of Thermodynamics

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which the story begins.

It starts out as any normal day: my dad yelling at me from the passenger seat as I attempt to simultaneously focus on him and steering. He doesn’t make it any easier by squawking orders at the top of his lungs. He’s the Adolf Hitler of driving.

“Mike, there’s a stop sign.”

“Yeah, I know, Dad.”

“Mike, watch out for those kids crossing the street.”

“Yeah, I know, Dad!”

“Mike, what are you doing? You almost ran over Mrs. Crawford!”

_“Yeah, I know, Dad!”_

Tyler meets me in the front of Forks High School. Instead of greeting me with a cheery “Good morning!” as most people would, he leans towards me and sniffs. “You took a shower.”

I scowl and punch him. “That was three times, at the most, and it wasn’t my fault that my dad thought we were wasting too much water.”

Tyler simply laughs and thumps my back.

Jessica and Lauren are sitting around at our usual spot near Little Oaky when we see them. I’ve missed this tree. Little Oaky, probably the oldest tree in Forks, towers over the rest of the school like a massive wooden skyscraper. When winds blow in from the north, Little Oaky’s branches sway with wild abandon and the branches threaten to snap at any moment, sending twenty-pound objects hurtling towards the unsuspecting students who are stupid enough to stand underneath it.

I can tell Jessica is bursting to say something. She’s doing that strange twitchy, vibration thing that means she’s too happy for her own good. “Have you guys heard about the new transfer students? I’m so excited to meet them,” Jessica finally squeals, startling Tyler into dropping his water bottle. “I hear that they’re super rich. They live in Tanglewood.” She spoke this sentence with finality, like that explains everything, which is sort of does.

If Forks had a Sunset Boulevard, it would be Tanglewood. The neighborhood isn’t really a neighborhood, more like three or four houses (read: mansions) separated by acres of land. The mansions are grandiose and probably cost more than the sum of my ancestors’ monetary income. They are expensive enough to drive away residents. This new family is the first I heard of to have ever bought one of those houses.

I don’t know who thought it would be a good idea to build such massive structures in the middle of nowhere, and in a wildlife refuge no less. The nerve!

Ever since I was old enough to know not to stick strange bugs in my mouth, my dad’s taken me camping. Dad is in love with the wild. He kind of reminds me of Tarzan, except Mom makes him wear clothes- I’m not entirely sure he wouldn’t walk around stark naked if he could. And much to Mom’s consternation, Dad managed to convert me into a “tree-hugging hippy”- Mom’s words, not mine. I think he was more excited about moving to Washington so he could sleep in the woods than because my mom received a job offer.

Dad’s next project is to petition the government to give Tanglewood’s land back to the Olympic National Park. He’ll flip out when he learns about the new family.

“Who are they?” I ask, peering down at my untied shoelaces.

“The Cullens,” Jess says. The name seems vaguely familiar. My mom may have mentioned it in a passing comment at some point or another. “They moved here on Saturday. My mom saw one of them at the grocery store. He’s a doctor, and she swears up and down that he’s the most handsome thing she’s ever seen.”

“On a scale from one to Jensen Ackles?” Lauren demands, lowering the phone she’s been fiddling with. Tyler rolls his eyes. He hates the scale, probably because he’s never made it past four-point-two.

“I’ll reserve judgment until I see him myself,” Jessica says.

A single droplet of water splashes onto my forehead. We break apart and scurry off to out respected classes before it truly starts raining, never mind that the bell hasn’t even rung yet. For all we know, a single raindrop could be the harbinger of a deluge.

I shimmy out of my jacket and hang it on a coat rack that’s always present beside pretty much every entrance to any room. A few other students mill about in an effort to stay dry.

Falling into my seat, I pull out a crime drama and, while waiting for Angela to arrive, get lost in the plotline. I’ve already figured out what’s going to happen in the end. The lady’s the murderer, but her accomplice will kill her and then stupidly go after the detective. I never read these things for the big reveal because the big reveal always disappoints me. It’s the stuff in the middle that catches my attention.

A delicate finger pokes my cheek. I glance up, brows raised at Angela’s rather irked expression. “The Terrible Twosome?” I ask, eyeing the smudges of mascara on Angela’s lips. “Uh, you have a little something on your-”

“I know,” she grumbles. She drops her bag on the floor and rubs her face, but that only manages to smear the black spots all over her cheeks. I reach over and wipe the marks away with my shirtsleeve. “Thanks,” Angela says, sitting down beside me. “I was trying to get ready this morning, but Josh and Isaac thought it would be funny to mess with my makeup. But that’s okay because I put salt in their cereal before I left.”

I burst into laugher. “What? Did your dad find out?”

“No. Besides, he should be scolding the twins for instigating it.”

“You know what they say about revenge, though.”

She snorts. “Yeah, yeah. I’ve heard it a million times, thanks.”

I see neither hide nor hair of any of the new students for my first four periods, but I hear plenty of rabid gossip. When I walk into my world history class, Jessica practically claws off my arm off in her haste to pull me closer. I struggle against her vice-like grip. She looks like a tiny Chihuahua but acts like a bulldog.

“Edward Cullen is gorgeous!” she shouts. A few people turn their heads and I awkwardly scratch the back of my neck. Jessica blushes and lowers her voice. “He’s like… like…”

“A visual orgasm,” Lauren finishes bluntly, sitting at the desk beside us. I splutter in shock. The things that come out of Lauren’s mouth are incredibly fascinating and socially awkward without actually being socially awkward.

Jessica nods emphatically. “He’s perfect! And so are his brothers. God, they’re drool-worthy. Am I drooling right now?” She dabs at the sides of her mouth and I’m not sure if she’s serious or not.

“Uh…” I begin.

“And his sisters are really pretty,” she continues, though with a tad less warmth and a bit of envy coloring her tone.

“I think they’ve all had plastic surgery,” Lauren declares. “There’s no way somebody can look that nice. The blond girl doesn’t even look sixteen. She looks like she’s like twenty or something. And did you see her boobs? What kind of white chick has boobs like that?” I just stare blankly and watch as Jessica and Lauren meticulously pick apart everything about the new students.

They abruptly stop talking when a tiny girl breezes into the room. She’s almost a foot shorter than me, and I’m not the tallest person in the class. The girl sports a spiky black hairdo and wears a loose blue dress over black tights. The bones on her face are so delicate, they look like they’d break if I touched her cheek. In short, she looks more like a porcelain doll than a human being.

I can’t resist peeking at her every few minutes during class, but I try not to be creepy about it. She sits with absolute perfect posture, much like my mom during family reunions, and she doesn’t seem to mind the staring.

After a few minutes of interest, most of the class returns their attention to our teacher. Some of the girls talk to the girl, and she smiles at them and says something back. The girls laugh. Beside me, Jessica is staring intently at the new girl, muttering something about makeup. 

 

Tyler is already sitting at our lunch table near the salad bar, and the first thing out of his mouth is, “Dude, Rosalie, the blonde chick, is seriously hot. Looks like a model. Hot.” He proceeds to shove a handful of fries into his mouth and doesn’t seem to be breathing. Some days, I wonder if he’ll forgo using his hands and simply shove his face into his lunch plate like a wild animal.

“I’d like to see her on the cover of Playboy,” Tyler adds. He wiggles his eyebrows suggestively, and I wonder how hard Rosalie would punch him when he makes a move on her. 

I forgot my lunch in my dad’s car again, so I sit at the table and people-watch. Alexa Andre is pregnant, and her parents are about ready to disown her. Rodney’s so high right now that he can't figure out how to use his water bottle, and none of the teachers have noticed. Eric Yorkie blatantly stares at Jessica’s boobs, and I carefully shift closer to her to block his view.

My eyes wander over to the window and I notice New Girl From History. She’s apparently arguing with a boy with reddish-brown hair. He’s just as pale as her and I wonder if either of them is allergic to sunlight. Do they regularly use SAD lamps? They sure as hell look like they’ve never seen the light of day.

His eyes snap towards me and I accidentally meet his gaze. Instead of awkwardly looking away like I know I should, I continue to stare at him. The boy tilts his head and doesn’t seem the slightest bit uncomfortable with his obvious display, so I don’t either. A blush still manages to crawl up my face. He’s actually really attractive, classically handsome, reminding me of my mom’s favorite silent film actors.

The boy blinks.

The moment’s broken when New Girl from History smacks the boy upside the head and walks away. I tear my eyes from the scene and watch Rodney attempt to drink the bottle of water and miss him mouth.

  

His name is Edward Cullen, and he’s in my Lit class. After Mrs. Bennett enthusiastically asks him about himself, he unenthusiastically replies that he’s from Alaska and he has two sisters and two brothers, but that’s all he’s willing to share. Then, he sits in the back of the classroom, probably to avoid all the staring. Mostly from the girls. Forks is one of those towns where everybody really does know everyone else. I still remember when Alexa threw up on me in third grade. She tried to kiss me during our eighth grade dance. It didn't end well. 

We've had a handful of new people move into town throughout the years, but none of them were as attractive as the Cullens—if Edward and his sister were anything to go by. I couldn't blame the students for being interested. In a day or two, things would be back to normal, which should be a relief to the Cullens.

Edward is also in my gym class. Since he doesn’t have a uniform, Coach Grey gives him a choice between playing basketball and sitting on the bench. He chooses to sit, but I catch him watching me every so often. At least, I think he’s looking at me.

“I think he’s checking me out!” Jessica squeals in my ear. I nearly miss the basketball.

After I toss it to another teammate, I say, “That’s, uh, great.” I try to infuse my voice with enthusiasm so Jessica wouldn’t give me the evil eye. She flips her hair and almost gets hit in the head by a stray ball. Jessica’s the one with the girly bits and the shiny brown hair, so of course he’d be eyeing her.

Oh, great. Another pervert. Jessica attracts the weirdest guys. 

When I glance at the stands again, Edward’s expression is vaguely horrified.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I literally have no idea where this came from, but I always liked Mike Newton, hated Isabella, and desperately hoped that Edward was secretly gay/not a creepy stalker. Plus, I just wanted good, solid characterization.
> 
> In this AU, Mike and the gang are in their junior year of high school. Jasper almost had a slip-up in Alaska and the family had to leave pretty quickly after that, so they end up going to Forks halfway through the semester. My vampires are different than the canon vamps (the canon ones are so bland and invincible to me) and the werewolves are... I'm debating on whether or not to add the imprinting nonsense to the mix.
> 
> I always welcome constructive criticism and feedback, so feel free to leave a comment. 
> 
> Enjoy!


	2. Dalton's Law

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Angela pretends to be Thor and Edward growls.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for the wonderful reviews and kudos and for reading. Hang on, guys. I'm still here!

“And remember to turn the alarm on and if anything happens, anything at all, _call me_ ,” Mom says for about the millionth time, crease lines appearing on her forehead. She’s as immaculately dressed as ever in her usual date-night attire consisting of a classy black dress and tall stiletto heels.

“I think he heard you the first time, dear,” Dad says, tugging on her arm. She doesn’t budge. “Come on now. We don’t want to be late for our reservation. Mike and Angela will be fine.” He looks out-of-place in his pressed black suit. I can’t help but wonder how Mom forced him into that get-up. His messy red hair, which I tried to help fix earlier, just refuses to stay in a single position, even with the styling gel. He repeatedly tugs at the tie fastened around his neck, and surreptitiously tries to loosen it when Mom isn’t looking, but she somehow manages to catch on and shoots him a suspicious glare.

I open the front door for them and gesture pointedly outside. “Yeah, Mom. I didn’t burn the house down the last fifteen times you and Dad went out. My track record is already cleaner than Dad’s.”

“That was one time, and I was trying to test the efficiency of my remodeled car engine,” Dad says.

Mom turns to Angela. “There’s leftover enchiladas in the fridge if either of you get hungry.”

Angela grins. “Don’t worry, Mrs. Newton. I’ll make sure Mike doesn’t do anything stupid.”

“Hey!”

Finally, the two of them head to the car, and I close the door with a sigh. “Happens all the time,” I say. “Does she think I’m going to throw a wild house party or something?”

Angela smirks, and I wait for a sharp retort. “Definitely not. Nobody would come.” She's so predictable.

The two of us climb the stairs and head towards my room, bickering about the little things, such as the mayor of Forks, Angela’s obsession with modern art, and gerrymandering. We can find anything to argue about given enough time and contact. 

I flop onto my bed and Angela curls up the plush chair in front of my computer.  “There’s a gemstone collection coming to Seattle, and I really want to go,” Angela says, fiddling with her phone.

“So go,” I answer, but I brace myself for what’s coming next.

Angela throws her jacket at me. “I want you to come, too, because I don’t want to be the awkward lonely girl going to a museum by herself. Who does that?”

“Apparently, you do.”

“Ha ha, you’re so funny. Tell me about joke.”

“What do you get when you cross a moose and a ghost?” Angela rolls her eyes. “A cariboo!” I, of course, crack up because it’s a pretty funny joke, and it deserves at least a chuckle, but Angela’s sense of humor has always been a bit off, so she just chucks her sock at me. “Will you stop assaulting me with your clothes!" 

“Only when you stop being stupid.”

“I think you mean ‘surprisingly witty’.”

Just as she’s about to come back with an undoubtedly sharp reply, a thump downstairs makes both of us freeze. Another thump sounds downstairs. “Maybe Dad forgot something,” I say because that’s something Dad’s prone to doing.

He teaches a class on sustainable energy and engineering at the University of Washington, mainly through video lectures from home because he doesn’t want to leave his project for a long period of time and drive for three hours to the main campus in Seattle, and sometimes he’s so busy with his research, I have to remind him that he does indeed have a class to teach and no, he can’t just skip it.

Angela fixes me with wide, brown eyes. “I didn’t hear the door open,” she says quietly.

I reach for my phone and quickly text my mom.  _Are you still out?_

We wait, and the phone buzzes a few moments later.  _It’s been less than ten minutes. Yes, we’re still out. Why?_

_So Dad’s with you?_

_Yes, Mike. Is there a problem?_

The steady thumping of my heart quickens. Angela, noticing the expression on my face, turns an alarming shade of white, her hands gripping the edges of the tightly enough to make her fists shake. A deafening silence overtakes the room, broken by the noises emanating from downstairs, and the sense of overwhelming dread curls deep in my belly.

_There’s someone else in the house._

This time, the response is immediate and plentiful and I almost drop my phone in fright.

__get into a room and lock the door_ _

_STAY THERE_

__dad is calling the police_ _

_were coming_

With the speed of a narcoleptic turtle, I slide off my bed and creep towards the door. Just as I go to shut it, a rumble joins the thumping. It grows into a deep, menacing growl that cannot possibly be human. Brows furrowed, I turn to Angela. She frantically shakes her head and gesticulates for my immediately return in her direction, but I can’t help but wonder if a bear somehow broke into our house. There is no way a human can make that noise, so I, in a bout of admittedly suicidal and stupid curiosity, slip out of the door and into the dark hallway.

“Mike,” Angela whisper-yells. Her shuffling footsteps can barely be heard over my pounding heart and the blood rushing through my head. “This is a bad idea. On a scale from one to a hundred, this is Avogadro’s number. What if he has a gun?”

I shush her, and peer down the stairs. “Do you hear that?” I ask because the growling is unmistakable now. There’s a wild animal in our house, and the front door is wide open.

I descend the staircase, ducking beneath the railing and occasionally pausing to hear the noise coming from the living room. Angela curses before following me. “We should at least get the bear spray,” she says.

“I think it’s in the garage,” I say, tiptoeing towards the door near the front entrance. “We could probably get out of here if we-”

Angela’s scream is the only warning I get before something massive and furry rams into my side. My head slams against the ground and my vision is briefly obscured by bright bursts of white light. I thrash underneath the crushing weight until I have enough leverage to push my legs out and throw it off of me. 

“What the hell is that?” I shout, scrambling up, because in front of me crouches a bizarre creature I have never seen before. It somehow manages to right itself on its two hind legs and block to doorway. Its body is covered in black hair with a few patches of gray skin poking through. Long, thick nails protrude from the animal's elongated fingers. Small, beady eyes glares at me with malicious hatred, and even through the thing has a muzzle and sharp teeth, something about its face looks human.

“Run!” I don’t know which one of us shouts it, but we both take off towards the only escape route, the living room, except Angela continues to run and I hurdle over the sofa and almost knock over the lamp on the end table. The creature crashes in after me. I try to keep my breathing to the bare minimum, but the adrenalin pumping through my veins forces my body to take in excessive oxygen in loud gasps.

A sharp tear startles me into focusing on something other than overwhelming terror. A clawed hand reaches over the sofa, dragging sharp nails into the upholstery and ripping through fabric. Shit. Mom is going to be so pissed off.

Being killed is not on my to-do list today, so I scrabble up, grab the lamp, and bash it over the creature’s head before it can react. The lamp shatters into a million pieces and the wolf _roars_ , throwing its arms out. I trip over the coffee table and wait for it to pounce. Except a huge hammer slams against the side of its head and knocks it over.

Angela stands behind it, eyes wide in shock and fear. She holds a meat tenderizer in one hand and a can of bear repellant in the other and looks like a badass superhero from a comic book, except she’s wearing Slytherin footie pajamas. “Good Lord!” she exclaims, swinging the tenderizer haphazardly and rounding the sofa. “What on earth is this thing?”

The _thing_ growls lowly, teeth pulled back to reveal a set of razor sharp teeth, and lunges with outstretched hands aimed at her face. I grab the first thing I see, an empty vase, and hurl it with all my might. It catches the thing on its back. The creature pauses with a yelp.

Angela sprays the bear repellant in its face, ducking underneath it as it slams into the cabinets. The creature stops for a moment. Then, it releases an ear-splitting howl and rubs at its eyes, stumbling around and blocking the path to the staircase. “Holy shit,” I say, pulling Angela to the other side of the room.

“That is not a bear, Mike!” Angela says. 

"Wow, really? I couldn't tell."

The thing jumps at Angela and throws her against the wall. She swings the meat tenderizer and frantically sprays. I jump onto its back and yank at its elongated ears. The creature bucks, twists and turns, trying to force me off, and Angela slips away, but then it slams me into the wall and I groan as my head hits another solid object. At this rate, I’ll start hemorrhaging before the cops can come.

Screaming like a one-woman charging army, Angela drops the spray, lifts the tenderizer with both hands and swings as if the creature’s head is a particularly aggravating baseball. Her aim is off and she ends up smashing the hammer through one of the windows, but it looks pretty cool, nonetheless.

The monster roars again, shaking the remaining windows and making my ears buzz. Angela’s hands slam against the coffee table as she attempts to jump over it, and the next thing I know, its going up in a blaze of orange and red. I yelp, falling onto my butt.

“What the hell?” I say, scrambling away from the impromptu bonfire. Coils of smoke drift lazily onto the ceiling and set off the smoke detectors. A cacophony of piercing beeps clashes with the sounds of smashing furniture and growling.

Angela rolls over the sofa. “I don’t know! Watch out!” I duck out of the way as the creature takes another swing. “Where is the police?”

The doorbell rings.

“Answer it!” Angela shouts, dodging a claw.

“And leave you with him? What if the living room catches on fire?” I hurl an elephant figurine at the monster and whimper when it breaks. That was Mom’s favorite.

“JUST ANSWER THE DOOR!”

So I run to the front door, but it's already open because the monster broke the lock.

Edward Cullen is standing on the other side. His entire shirt is shredded, hanging in tatters on his body. His chest is covered in a dark liquid that gleams scarlet in the moonlight and oh my god is that blood? “Uhh…” I say.

“Will you let me in?” he asks frantically, searching over the top of my head.

I blink and distantly hear Angela shout, “Any time now, Mike!”

“Just let me in, Michael!” Edward hisses. His eyes flash red, and I wonder if I could pass out now.

“Okay, okay,” I say, stepping aside because I have absolutely no idea what’s going on. “Come in, but I don’t think you-” One moment he’s there, and the next think I know, I hear his voice in my living room. Okay. Okay, so Cullen has superhuman speed.

I hurry back into the living room. Angela grabs onto the back of my shirt and prevents me from hurdling straight into the fray. Which is a good thing because Edward Cullen is fighting the monster like a character out of Mortal Kombat in fast-forward. The two are a blur of limbs, snarls mixed with grunts of pain. Not-Human-Edward seems to have the upper hand. Specks of blood fly off the creature’s body and paint the white walls of the living room. The two somehow manage to avoid the flaming coffee table, but the smoke makes my eyes water and I feel a cough building in my throat. We should probably get out of here but both of us are glued to the spot, clinging to each other.

Edward pins the creature to the ground, and _holy shit_ did he just growl? I press against the wall like it’s my lifeline.

“I think I’m in a dream,” I tell Angela, rubbing my head. My hand comes back with spots of blood. She pinches me, and I yelp. “Okay, not dreaming.”

The front door slams open, and this time, my mom’s voice carries into the room. “Mike!” She sounds panicked. A moment later, my mom is at the entrance of the living room, toting a huge rifle. Dad stands behind her, taking in the scene with disbelieving eyes. I understand that feeling.

Mom takes one look at the madness in front of her, aims the gun, and fires. The furry creature howls, blood gushing out of a bullet hole in its shoulder. It attempts to lunge at Mom, but Edward grabs its neck and snaps it around with a sickening crunch. The monster falls to the floor. Blood continues to leak out of the multiple wounds on its body, but it doesn't move.

Mom turns her gun on Edward and shoots. He barely dodges the bullet. She shoots again. “I can explain!” he shouts over the alarm, hopping around the room to avoid any bullets. “Please, Mrs. Newton, I was only trying to help!” Meanwhile, Dad runs back out of the house.

“Get away from my son!” Mom screams, firing unrelentingly. Her hair whips back and forth as she twists her body to get a better aim.

Somehow, I manage to unglue myself from the wall and flail my arms while also staying out of the range of fire, both figuratively and literally. “Mom. Mom! He’s telling the truth! Stop shooting!”

Mom pauses, so I start babbling, starting from the moment I hear noises to the fiery conclusion, all while Edward uses me as a human shield. What a wimp. “… and the you came and shot the monster and tried to kill Edward, and where do you keep the gun because I’ve never seen it around before-”

A stream of water hits me in the face. I splutter, taking a step back right into Edward’s chest, and then Edward catches me when I almost fall over.

Dad stands on the other side of the broken window and sprays the burning furniture with a garden hose. I can see the neighbors staring from their front porch and make sure to shoot them a dirty look. Where were they when Angela and I were screaming bloody murder? At least I know who I can’t depend on if I’m being butchered in my home.

A moment later, the front door bangs open again and a group of police officers surge in, guns drawn, only to stop short at the sight that greets them.  


 

“Do you have any idea why the man targeted you?” Chief Swan asks while another officer takes down notes. Both of them wear perplexed expressions, eyes darting to the house every few seconds.

I shake my head, tired of explaining the story after the third recital. Two other officers already asked me earlier and rung out every minute detail. “No. I’m telling you! He wasn’t… a _he_ before. He was some giant wolf-human thing!”

 “You’re telling me the man was a werewolf?”

I stare at the broken window of my house. Sometime in between Edward snapping its neck and the cops bursting in, the thing had transformed into a human man, albeit a very hair one. His claws all but disappeared and left unusually long nails. He was a little hairier than considered normal, but there was no muzzle, no fur, and definitely no sharp teeth. I tried to explain that to the cops but they decided that I’d had one too many blows to the head, and Angela literally was at a loss for words. She just went with what the cops told her.

They had been particularly aggressive with Mom and Edward, the former because she was wielding a Winchester rifle and the latter because he was covered in blood, but they reluctantly backed off when my mom insisted that the gun is registered, and Edward wheedled his way out by explaining how he tried to be a good Samaritan and held off the man until the cavalry—Mom—arrived.

“Well…” I say, scrunching my face. It made sense in my head. The man was a furry monster that magically transformed into a human, and it _is_ a full moon. It’s the only reasonable explanation. I mean, what kind of animal _howls_ like that? But actually saying it out loud, and to the Chief of Police, I wasn’t so sure.

Angela sits beside me in the ambulance. Outside, Edward argues with a paramedic, who insists that he accompany them to the hospital. “I’m fine! I wasn’t even scratched,” he says. The paramedic stares pointedly at Edward’s torn-up, bloodstained shirt. Edward rubs the back of his neck, expression morphing into childlike innocence. “Er, this isn’t mine.” Which really doesn’t help his case with the police.

“How did the coffee table catch on fire?” Chief Swan asks, catching my attention again.

I glance at Angela. “Um, I think the man had a lighter or something. I don’t know. One minute we were wrestling with him, and the next thing I knew, the table was up in flames.” The whole thing was a nightmarish blur, really. For all I knew, there could have been a lighter. Hell, _I_ could have been holding the lighter!

Chief Swan, the poor soul, is just as confused as my dad, who is trying to convince a firefighter that this must be a plot by one of the many gas companies that my dad frequently insults. Even for the people involved, this seems farfetched. I still can’t rule out the possibility that this is all an elaborate dream. If so, I’m going to write it down the second I wake up. It would make a killer movie.

 “Alright then,” the Chief says gruffly. “Thanks for the cooperation. We’ll do everything we can to figure out what happened, and in the meantime, get some rest. It must have been a long day."

He trudges towards the house while the forensic team swarms around. One popular opinion is that the man took some kind of hallucinogen before attacking us, and Angela and I were so traumatized by the events that our brains refuse to process anything.

Because that makes so much sense.

Every time I fall asleep on the way to the hospital, one of the paramedics shakes me away. I shook him the stink-eye while being carted off into the emergency room. He just smiles and waves. Maybe he's a werewolf too.


	3. Activation Energy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Reverend Webber spills the truth and Mrs. Newton threatens Edward. Again.

The smell of hand sanitizer is particularly strong in the emergency room. Over the occasional rustle of paper and the unbroken chatter of hospital staff, I hear Angela grumbling in the adjacent section, separated by a thin, blue curtain. Unable to handle another second of this, I snap aside the curtain and Angela stares back at me. Both of us are wearing hospital gowns, and the constant breeze in uncomfortable places makes me shift.

The moment we arrived, Angela and I were spirited away to get CT scans to check for head injuries. My parents were hot on our tails and fussed over both of us until I mentioned my sudden thirst. Dad caught onto my desire for some space and dragged Mom away to find coffee and a water bottle.

“It was definitely a werewolf,” Angela says, tugging at her attire. A nasty bruise blossoms across her left cheek, and she winces with every body movement.  “I mean, I hit the thing with a spiked hammer and it didn’t even bleed.”

I nod frantically and then recoil as the world tilts and swirls around me. Rubbing my eyes, I say, “If I were here by myself, I would swear I’m going crazy.”

“Then I’m glad to share in your madness,” Angela says.

“I guess we’ll find out when we ask him,” I say as Dr. Harper walks in, clipboard in hand and a bright smile on her face. Mom and Dad are quick to follow.

Dr. Harper lifts my head up and check the gauze wrapped around my forehead. “You're all set to go,” she says. “You’ll need plenty of rest because you do have a mild concussion, so no sports for the next two weeks, no video games for the next few days, and if any complications occur- vomiting, dizziness, or persistent headaches- come back right away.”

Mom hands me my pile of clothes. I yank my pants on under the hospital gown and tug the offending piece of fabric off. I grimace at the number of bruises littering my skin. Some are smaller than my pinky nail and others are size of my fist. I quickly pull my shirt on. My muscles, void of adrenalin, ache and burn.

Mom turns to Angela. “Your parents called. They’ll be here in a few minutes.” Angela’s parents were in Port Angeles before the attack, and Reverend Webber is probably breaking a few laws to get to the hospital.

“Why don’t we wait for them, Mom? I’m sure everyone wants to know what happened.” My mom and I stare at each other, a psychological game that I am very familiar with. Mom knows that I won’t give this up, and unlike the time I refused to take a bath and she locked me in the bathroom and wouldn’t let me leave until I was squeaky clean, I won't give up my ground as easily.

“I think this is a conversation to be had at home,” Mom finally says, crossing her arms.

“Um, I spoke with the officers, and they advice us to stay elsewhere while they investigate the crime scene,” Dad pipes up, foot tapping nervously. Judging by his twitching, he must have had at least three cups of coffee in the last hour. “Plus, our living room is flooded and our front door is broken."

Another man squeezes into the room. Judging by the white coat, he is one of the emergency room doctors. However, I’ve never seen him before, and I’ve been to the hospital plenty of times in the past. The doctor looks fairly young, with skin so pale that it almost glows in the synthetic light.

“Dr. Cullen,” Dr. Harper says, tilting her head. A quick glance at Mom reveals a clenched jaw and suspicious eyes. Really, Mom looks like she’d like nothing more than to snap his neck. And when Edward appears behind him, she fingers her purse’s zipper and I really don’t want to know what she has in there because it cannot be good.

So this must be Edward’s father. Other than the pale skin and admittedly flawless facial features, they look nothing alike. “I believe we can discuss this at my home,” he says to Mom.

She raises a brow. “Absolutely not.” Then, _they_ have a stare-down, and I think Dr. Cullen will have to take the bath.

Four more people burst into the room, and it's bit crowded with ten people crammed into the tiny space. “Oh, thank goodness,” Mrs. Webber exclaims, hurrying over to her daughter and checking Angela over for injuries. Reverend Webber is quick to copy her.

“I’m fine. Dr. Harper says I just have a few cuts, but I should be fine,” Angela explains. Isaac and Joshua, Angela’s identical twin brothers, climb onto her bed and demand to hear the full story.

Reverend Webber then turns to Mom and spots the Cullens standing beside the entrance. He gasps and steps back. Edward groans. He whispers quietly to his father, and the other man sighs in frustration. “I would like to know what happened as well,” Dr. Cullen says forcefully. “We are just as stumped by the events as you surely are.”

“Are you saying that you’re not responsible for this?” Reverend Webber asks, disbelief coloring his tone. He touches the silver cross on the chain around his neck. When Mom said she talked to him, she really did mean it.

“The boy insists that he was hunting a _panther_ when it happened,” Mom mutters. Seven sets of eyes look at her. Edward shuffles further away from her. He catches me watching him and shoots me a reluctant smile. I tentatively return it.

“I think I know where we can talk,” Reverend Webber says. Dr. Harper squints at all of us in confusion.

 

Forks's only church had a variety of purposes. When Angela’s father became the pastor, he renovated the building and painted the glass walls with pictures of cherubs and an old, bearded man that I assume is God. Since it's one of the bigger buildings in Forks, people usually host celebrations here in addition to various religious events.

Today, the church happens to be empty, save a ragtag group of people standing near the pulpit. Edward and his father stand the furthest away in our loose semi-circle.

“Okay, before we get started, can we clarify something?” I say. “That thing that attacked us. It was a werewolf, wasn’t it?”

“Yes,” Mom says.

“I knew it!”

“Wait, a _werewolf_ attacked you?” Reverend Webber demands, clutching the wooden pulpit.

“Wait, there are werewolves?” Isaac shouts.

“That’s so cool!” Joshua says.

Mrs. Webber shoots the twins a warning look. “Boys, not now.” He wanted to take them home, but they threw a tantrum in the hospital and weaseled their way out of it, after which I decided that I should learn their ways.

Angela throws her hands out to catch everybody’s attention. “Can somebody please explain this werewolf thing! What is going on here? How is this possible? How is any of this possible?"

Mom steps forward, her face set in determination. “I guess I should start,” she says, tossing aside her wavy blond hair. “My maiden name is Jailyn Winters." Dr. Cullen flinches at the name, but Edward only tilts his head like a cat. "The Winters have been hunters for generations.”

“Err, what do you hunt?” Mrs. Webber asks.

Mom’s eyes flicker between Mrs. Webber and the Cullens. “Monsters. We hunt creatures that thrive off blood and chaos- werewolves, witches… vampires.” She turns to Dad and I, eyes apologetic. I can’t seem to wrap my head around it. I can’t integrate the mother that read me bedtime stories and works as a nurse with the lady who fired a Winchester rifle at one of my schoolmates. “I thought I left that life behind years ago. After my father and I had a disagreement, I split from the rest of the family. They didn’t agree with some of the choices I made in life, and I couldn’t continue living the way I was.”

Mom never really talked about her family. I knew that they had a falling out because they were rarely over. Uncle Joey and Alex came more than all the others, and any time they and Mom were in the same room together, I could feel the tension like a thick fog. The one time that I ever met my grandfather, I was eight and it was during Thanksgiving. He creeped me out, following me around and trying to talk to me about monsters, and I entered the kitchen before dinner that night to find Mom standing in front of him and holding a butchering knife. He left quickly the next morning. When I asked Mom what that was about, she said it was a just misunderstanding and told me not to talk about it.

“But why didn’t you tell me?” Dad asks grimly. “How… I never noticed…”

Mom takes his hand in both of hers. A shadow overtakes her features, darkening her eyes. “I didn’t want to worry you or Mike. There are things out there that- they’re the stuff of nightmares. And once you know, you can never forget.” She presses her fingers against his cheek. Even after years of marriage, they still love each other to the moon and back. Though Dad is understandably shocked, his face softens. He lifts his hand to cover hers.

“Not to, uh, ruin the moment,” I say because as heartwarming as the scene is, there are still too many unanswered questions, “but what was the werewolf doing in our house?”

All eyes turn to Edward, but it is Carlisle who speaks. “As you probably know-”

“Not all of us,” Angela mutters.

“-my family is a bit different. Let me start out by saying that we do not hunt humans. We do not drink human blood.” He faces Mom, who hardly seems moved. Wait, _drink_ blood?

“So,” I say, leaning back, “you guys are-”

“Vampires,” Edward says.

“There are vampires, too?” Isaac shouts, jumping off the pew.

“Werewolves are better,” Joshua mutters next to him.

“Nuh-uh,” Isaac snaps. “Vampires have fangs.”

“So do werewolves, you dummy.”

“No. Werewolves are just really big dogs.”

“Well, vampires are just people who drink blood, so ha!”

“Boys!” Reverend Webber says over their bickering. They quiet down and start whispering furiously at each other.

Edward’s grins crookedly. “Actually, vampires are super fast, too, and we’re really strong.” Isaac pumps his fist in the air.

Angela groans, looking beseechingly up at the ceiling, a gesture she often uses when babysitting the tiny terrors. “Stop encouraging them.”

Edward loses his smile and turns back to the waiting eyes of my mother. “I was hunting last night. It was just a few elk and a mountain lion.”

A gasp escapes my dad. “Mountain lions? You hunt mountain lions?”

“Now is not the time, Will,” Mom hisses, squeezing his hand in warning.

“But-but they’re practically endangered. You can’t just hunt them,” Dad insists, glaring at Edward as if he threatened to start a forest fire.

“William!” Dad shuts up.

“While I was running in the woods,” Edward continues, warily watching my dad for any more outbursts, “I caught traces of a foreign scent. At first, I thought it was just another animal, but I’ve never smelled something so… metallic before, so I followed it out of the woods and towards Forks. It was about halfway through one of the neighborhoods that I heard screaming, and I ran as quickly as possible to investigate. I heard the werewolf in your house, and Michael and Angela.

“Vampires cannot enter a human dwelling without permission. It’s... there is something about the energy surrounding a home that creates a protective barrier, so I asked Michael if he would let me in.”

I snort. "Asked? More like demanded."

Edward shrugs. “I didn’t have time to be _formal_ about it.”

“And then you came in, Mom,” I say. “But I how did you kill the werewolf? Angela hit that thing over the head with a meat tenderizer and it still managed to get back up.”

Mom pulls a revolver out of her purse and nearly everyone steps back. Great. My mom carries a concealed weapon. And in a church, no less. Maybe that’s why it hurts so much when swings her bag at Dad and me. She snaps open the bottom of the gun and pulls out a single bullet. “It’s made with Wolfsbane and silver and can kill almost anything. Most of my guns have these bullets.” She glances at the two vampires again. Her eyes flash in warning, and I sigh.

“Mom, can you not act like you’re going to off the Cullens at any moment? Edward did save our lives. I’d prefer them alive,” I say, standing in front of her.

She purses her lips. “Of course I wouldn’t kill them, honey. Not if they keep to themselves and stay away from you. Vampires are dangerous and unpredictable, no matter what they say.” And wow, Mom. Way to be supernaturally racist.

Mom slips the gun away and speaks to Dr. Cullen before I can respond. “I’m never going to trust you or your coven, but as long as you stick with your word, I’ll refrain from hunting you down and butchering you.” She steps closer to them. Her voice pitches lower and she looks deadly. “But the moment I hear that you’ve hurt an innocent human, I will wipe every last one of you out of existence. Do you understand?” Dr. Cullen nods solemnly. “Good. Now I’d like to figure out what exactly a rogue werewolf is doing in my town.”

“They’re usually not seen in this part of the country,” Reverend Webber says.

Everybody looks at him. Angela says, “How do you know that, Dad?”

He leans against the pulpit and remains quiet for a moment. “I’ve been trained to ward off many different kinds of evil. It comes with the position in the church. Usually, it is ghosts. I’ve done my fair share of haunted houses. I don’t believe I have ever encountered a werewolf, nor would I like to.”

“There are real ghosts?” Isaac asks, jumping up and down.

“Dude, that’s so cool! But not as cool as werewolves,” Joshua says, nodding sagely.

Isaac starts to open his mouth, no doubt to correct his brother’s ridiculous ideas, when Mrs. Webber interrupts him.

“Don’t even start,” she says. Isaac sticks his tongue at her and starts playing ninja tag with Joshua, all ills forgotten. 

“I’m sorry, but this is just so much to wrap my head around,” Mrs. Webber says, collapsing onto a bench. She rubs her temples and looks pretty overwhelmed, which has been my current status for the last three or four hours, so I can sympathize with her.

Mom sits next to her, touching her shoulder gently. “If you ever need to talk about any of this, or if you have questions, you can always call or visit, Joanne. I’m happy to help.”

Mrs. Webber sends her a grateful smile. The two of them have been friends ever since we moved to Forks. They both worked in the same unit at the hospital and Mrs. Webber was over at our house pretty often. She usually brought Angela along, which explains why Angela could sleepover at my house without her parents freaking out. She and I are best friends, and her parents trust me to be a total gentleman, which really makes me feel pretty respectable. 

“We can even have a training session,” Mom continues. “I think it would be a good idea for Mike and Angela, and you, honey,” she says to Dad, “to learn some basic survival skills.”

That perks me right up. Learning how to fight from my mom? Heck yeah! Sign me up. She looked so cool taking down the werewolf, her expression fierce and her curly blond hair whipping around.

I image myself as a younger, less buff Rambo, save the scars because I liked my face thank you very much. “Sounds cool,” I say, “and Angela can come to, if she wants to, that is.” I turn to her and she grins before looking imploringly at her dad.

“All right,” Reverend Webber says grudgingly, obviously uncomfortable with the idea. “As long as you can defend yourself. But I don’t want anything dangerous,” he warms Mom.

“Of course not,” she answers, indignant. She taps her waist with a manicured finger. “I’m thinking hand-to-hand and obviously some shooting lessons, in case the time ever calls for it. Who knows what can happen in the future.”

Edward steps forward. “I can help with the hand-to-hand training,” he says quietly, as if Mom will attack if he speaks up.

She scowls at him. “And why on earth would you help us learn how to kill you?” Everything from her tone to the arch of her eyebrows screams suspicion, and I agree with her. If I were Edward, I would be doing everything in my power to stay away from her. She did hunt his kind for a living, and judging by their reaction to her surname, they knew of her family's reputation.

Edward just shrugs, shifting from one foot to the other in a very human gesture. “Like you said, I want them to learn how to defend themselves.” He meets my gaze and holds it. His eyes are so green they look photoshopped. “It’s in my power to help, so why shouldn’t I?”

Mom clears her throat and she rests her hand on my shoulder, gripping it a bit more tightly than strictly necessary. I break eye contact first. “I don’t need any assistance,” she says shortly.

“Mom,” I begin. “Edward’s offering to help, and he has an inside scoop on vampires. I really think we should let him help us.” With a jerk of her head, she conveys her displeasure at my logical reasoning. She’s stubborn like that. When my parents get into arguments, it’s always my dad that has to make the first move and apologize, so it’s a pretty good thing that he’s usually so good about it.

“I don’t want any of you near my family,” she snaps. “If we have nothing else to discuss, I think we’re done here.” With that, she turns and drags me along even as I cast a sympathetic smile at Edward, who returns it halfheartedly. I wave to Angela. Dad hurries behind us after exchanging a few quiet words with Reverend Webber.

The last thing I hear before I’m unceremoniously hauled out of the church is Joshua’s excited voice. “Can me and Isaac fight monsters too, Dad? Pleeeeeease?”

 


	4. Occam's Razor

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Mike's dad makes pancakes, and Mike and Edward have conversations.

By the time we arrive back home, the police had already taken down the crime scene tape. I help Mom clean up the wreckage in the living room and board up the window while Dad fixes the lock on the front door with duct tape and glue. Hopefully nobody’s planning on burglarizing our home tonight, although now I have a feeling that Mom keeps guns tucked away in vases.

When Dad joins us in the living room, the three of us stand around the charred remains of our coffee table. “How did this happen exactly?”” Mom asks, eyeing the burnt patch on our carpet.

I shrug.

 

I walk downstairs the next day and interrupt my parents’ hushed conversation. They both turn to me, which is not at all suspicious. “What’s the story, morning glory?” Dad says, holding his cup of tea in one hand and a spatula in the other. He’s still in his pajamas.

Pausing in front of the kitchen door, I glare at him, my eyes burning from insomnia. Mom sends Dad a dirty scowl from her place at the kitchen table. Her hair is a mess, she’s wearing a hideously cheerful scrub top, and she has a death grip on her coffee mug—the one that I gave her for her birthday. _Shut up_ , it says. I thought it was appropriate because Mom is even worse at mornings than I am.

“Oh come on, you two,” he says. “At least try to look alive.” He sets the plate of pancakes on the table while I get a glass of milk.

“Drew, not right now,” Mom says shortly. She eats her pancakes with a grumpy frown on her face. “It’s too early in the morning and I haven’t had nearly enough coffee.”

“And I’ve been awake the entire night thinking that another werewolf’s going to jump through my window and eat me,” I say.

Mom huffs. “Don’t be ridiculous, Mike. I’ve lined the entire house with wolfsbane.” Dad and I stare at her. “It repels werewolves,” she says.

“Where did you get wolfsbane?” I say.

“Shop in Port Angeles. The owner and I used to run in the same circles.”

Dad sets down his tea cup and says, “How many… er, monsters have you killed, honey?”

“Hard to say,” Mom says, taking a sip of her coffee. “Maybe a few hundred?” Dad and I gape at her. “What? My father was only too happy to teach me how to shoot before I even started walking.” I watch her scowl deepen, and I have a moment of enlightenment.

My mom always took a very honest approach at parenting. She never kissed my booboos and said that it would make everything better. She never lied to me about the existence of Santa Clause, and when I asked her about the Tooth Fairy, she said that he was a sick creep and that if a stranger ever tried to come into my room, I should scream bloody murder.  

So, I didn’t really have a magical childhood, but that’s okay because when I came home crying one day after my teacher was mean to me, Mom said, “Don’t worry, baby, I’ll take care of this.” She drove me to school, walked me to class, and had a private discussion with the teacher that resulted in a formal letter of apology from the principal. She helped me cope with my borderline pathological fear of the dark, and sometimes she still does. And when I turned fifteen and realized that I found boys just as—if not more—attractive than girls, my mom sat me down and explained that yes, it was perfectly fine, and no, she would never stop loving me, not for the world.

My mother is amazing, but I’m beginning to understand why her edges are so rough.

“But they were all evil, right?” I ask. “The monsters?”

Mom sets down her mug. “Evil’s a subjective term. Have I killed things that slaughtered innocent humans? Yes. Have I killed things that had no choice but to murder because it was in their nature? Yes, and I’d do it again in a heartbeat. Some monsters can’t help it. That’s what they’re made for, and that’s all they know. Those vampires will slip up eventually, and I will put them down.” She ends in a whisper, eyes full of dark hatred that sends a trickle of anxiety down my spine, and I regret bringing up the topic in the first place.

Even though I disagree with her—the Cullens seem nice enough and Edward did save mine and Angela’s lives—I don’t want to start an argument with her so early in the morning, so I say, “Uh, what about that training thing you were talking about?”

Mom perks up. “I was thinking three times a week from six to eight. We can start with basic hand-to-hand and shooting. I’ll let Joanne know.”

Dad cringes. He’s as anti-gun as they come, and I’m sure that they had a long discussion about Mom’s love of dangerous weapons after I went to my room last night. “This seems a overboard, dear, and just a tad dangerous. And maybe illegal.”

“I think it’s a great idea, Dad, “ I say.

“Just be happy that I’m not sticking them in the woods in the middle of the night and making them find a way home, ” Mom says. She pulled her hair into a tight bun and said, “I’ll take you to school, sweetheart. Grab your stuff.”

 

One of the downsides of small town life is that news spreads fast, even if you do everything in your power to suppress it. By the time I got to school the next morning, at least half of the school knew about it, and the other half would find out soon enough. Tyler, Jessica, and Lauren were waiting for me when I stepped out of my car, but I only had time to assure them that I was fine before the school bell chimed and we had to split up. Most of the students asked if I was okay, and the teachers excused me from turning in last night’s homework, which is great because I definitely didn’t write that essay on whether or not _The Awakening_ was a feminist novel—I don’t think so, but Jessica vehemently disagrees.

Only a few people asked about the details, and I gave them the shortest, sanest version available: some nut broke into my house. People already knew that Edward had been involved. He’d been at the hospital, and weaving a web of lies that didn’t place too much attention of Edward and his family would have been pretty tricky and would have raised suspicion regardless, so I told everyone that I had invited him and Angela over. Then _that_ rumor mill started spinning.

New Girl From History stares at me during the entire class period. Without blinking. It is disconcerting and not at all human-like behavior. I should tell Edward that his family is doing it wrong.

“Since when were you and Edward Cullen friends?” Jessica demands, stomping over to our table during lunch. I look up from my sandwich. “Why didn’t you invite _me_ over to your house, too?” Jessica has that gleam in her eye and I know that an argument is inevitable. Angela, Lauren, and Tyler do as well because they stop moving.

“It wasn’t anything big,” I say. “He and I have gym together and I told him that I could show him around the town since he’s new and all.”

Jessica sits across from me and her frown deepens. “Well, you _could_ have invited me you know.” I remind her that if I invited her over last night, then all four of us would have been in that mess. She becomes sheepish and drops that line of thought.

“I’m glad you’re okay,” Jessica says. She doesn’t build on the emotional moment. Instead, she starts a conversation about the pros and cons of rain boots. Lauren scoffs at them. Tyler’s all for them because they “make girls look sexy,” to which Lauren and Jessica glare at him.

Angela doesn’t say much. She plays with her food and gives Tyler her sandwich when he asks if she’s going to eat it. After lunch, I pull her aside and ask if she’s feeling well. “I’m fine,” she says. She shoos me off to class before I can pester her about it.

Edward sits next to me in Lit. The girl that usually sits there gives him a dirty look when she walks into the room, but he doesn’t respond to her. “Hi,” he says with a cute half-smile. I probably shouldn’t consider it cute. Does he have fangs? I wonder if I’m weird for thinking that he’d still look cute with fangs. His smile widens until it stretches across both cheeks, revealing normal, albeit supernaturally white, teeth.

“Hi,” I say after staring at him for a socially unacceptable amount of time. “How are you?”

“Fine,” he says. “I hear that you invited me over last night.”

My cheeks heat up. “Uh, yeah. About that. I thought it would be the easiest explanation. I think people would have started talking otherwise, you know?”

Edward’s quiet for a moment, but his eyes don’t leave my face, and he doesn’t blink. He has beautiful green eyes, but I still think we need to have a conversation about human blinking patterns. “Thank you,” he says, “for covering for me.” I peer around to make sure nobody’s eavesdropping on us. “You didn’t have to, so thank you.”

Rubbing the side of my neck, I say, “Well you did kind of save my life.”

“I would have done that anyway.”

I don’t have the chance to respond because Mrs. Bennett begins her scathing rhetoric on the last few pages of _Jane Eyre_. I didn’t read that part either, so I’m confused both by her and by Edward himself.

When class ends, I’m composed enough to start a conversation with him on our way to gym. He keeps it light and human-friendly. We compare music tastes—he likes classical and, for some godforsaken reason, Linkin Park. I much prefer bands that he refers to as “coffee shop indie,” but I also enjoy Stevie Wonder. We agree on him.

We both play an instrument. Edward apparently knows how to play everything under the sun, but he prefers the piano. I play the viola. He says we should perform a duet one day. I laugh and respond with a resounding no. The last time I tried to play in front of more than my parents and my former teacher, I threw up on my teacher’s shoes and refused to go to school for the next three days. Besides, I tell him, I’m not that good. I just play because it makes my parents happy.

The guys’ locker room is an oddly large space for the handful of us that are in the gym class, but that only means that I get more space to myself when I change. Edward’s locker is further down then mine, and it takes everything that I have not to act like a complete creep and peek at him. In addition to being weird, there’s a high statistical probability that he is neither gay nor bisexual nor anything other than straight. Last time I had a crush on another guy, it didn’t end well. I don’t want to make things uncomfortable between us.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Things have been kind of crazy, but I finally finished this (short) chapter!
> 
> Kudos are greeted warmly, and comments get some of Mr. Newton's pancakes.


End file.
